


The Wedding in the North

by kitkatkaylie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Red Wedding, Fluff, M/M, Protective Yara Greyjoy, Robb Stark is King in the North, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24643987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: Theon had once hoped to wed Sansa Stark, to be joined to the Stark family fully, the Stark that awaited him at the Heart Tree however was not one he would ever regret.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy & Yara Greyjoy, Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77





	The Wedding in the North

**Author's Note:**

> @robbeonsa on tumblr requested some Throbb wedding fluff so here it is.
> 
> This is a completely fluffy au where Robb is King in the North and Yara is Queen of the Iron Islands, hope you enjoy!

There had been a time in Theon’s life when he had imagined waiting at the Heart Tree of Winterfell for Sansa Stark to be brought to him as a bride. A time where he had imagined joining the Stark family and being called ‘son’ by Ned Stark. 

It was strange be the one walking to the Heart Tree instead, his arm looped through his sister’s, and a different red haired Stark awaiting him.

He would not have had it any other way though, not even when he was a boy dreaming of Sansa, not for the girl herself but for what she represented. For the how much closer it would have brought he and Robb. 

The cloak was heavy on his shoulders, a maidens cloak embellished with a golden kraken that had once been his mother’s marriage cloak, a gift Yara had brought with her. It would soon be replaced with a direwolf, but for now the heavy, salt stained cloth was comforting.

It made him feel like his mother was truly there with him.

“We can still leave, baby brother.” Yara said quietly, “Return to Pyke or Harlaw, you do not have to do this if you do not want.”

Theon knew her words were truth, that she would gladly steal him away home, that she would keep him safe if he asked.

He shook his head, “I love Robb.” He said simply, “I want to marry him.”

Yara’s grip tightened, “Then you shall. Just remember that should your Lord husband turn cruel, the Iron Islands will always shelter you.”

Theon smiled at her, “I shall. But I do believe I will be happy, we have passed enough troubles together that I am confident about it.”

Yara squeezed once more before starting to lead him through the trees and the waiting crowd, their path lit by lanterns and marked by garlands of shells and greenery. 

Theon noticed little of it though, his attention taken by the sight of Robb waiting at the Heart Tree. His red curls were contained beneath his iron crown, his body encased in his steel armour embossed with wolves. Robb looked every inch the warrior king and Theon could hardly contain the lust the sight inspired in him. 

He smiled at Robb as they stopped before him, and at Sansa too as she took her role as ceremony leader and Hand of the King. 

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” Sansa asked, her joy at being asked to run the ceremony evident.

“Theon of House Greyjoy, Prince of the Iron Islands, a man grown, true born and noble.” Yara said, solemn despite the smirk playing about the corners of her mouth. 

“And who gives him?” 

“Yara of House Greyjoy, Queen of the Iron Islands, his sister.” Yara released his arm, but remained by his side. 

“Who claims Prince Theon?”

“Robb of House Stark, King in the North and the Trident.” Robb stepped forwards and took Theon’s hand in his own. 

“Do you, King Robb, take Prince Theon to be your husband?”

“I do.” Robb squeezed his hand and smiled shyly. 

“And do you, Prince Theon, take King Robb to be your husband?”

“I do.” Theon did not even have to think about his answer. 

“You may cloak Prince Theon and bring him under your protection.”

Yara unclasped the cloak and for a moment Theon was exposed to the cold air, before another cloak, a thicker, fur lined cloak, was swung around his shoulders and clasped at the front by Robb. 

Theon tilted his head and pressed a kiss against Robb’s lips, a move which prompted cheers from all present. Traditionally in a Northern ceremony they would kneel before the tree and offer prayers before the Old Gods, asking for blessings for a happy marriage. But they did not just worship the Old Gods, the Drowned God still needed to be present even if they were far from the sea. 

Uncle Aeron had insisted he represent the Drowned God, that he be the one to bless them with salt. 

Aeron held out a deep basin, hewn from the stones at the shores of Pyke, one imbedded with the remains of long dead sea creatures. Yara took the basin from him, barely showing how heavy it was.

They knelt down and Aeron sprinkled them with salt water taken from the basin. 

“Bless them with Salt, Bless them with Stone, Bless them with Steel,” He spoke in a deep, rasping voice, “What is dead may never die.”

“But rises harder and stronger.” Theon finished the ritual blessing, Robb echoing his words a second later. 

“These two men are here to beg the blessing of the Drowned God, here to be joined together for eternity like the tides and the moon. Let no man tear them asunder for they are bound by salt, by stone and by iron.”

A last sprinkle of salt water, which trickled down the back of Theon’s neck and below his clothes, and the blessing was done.

They were married.

They stood again, and then in a single smooth movement, Robb swept Theon up in his arms and started to carry him to the Great Hall to a chorus of wolf whistles and cat calls.

* * *

Robb could hardly believe he was truly married to Theon, that they had stood in front of the Heart Tree and their families and declared their love for each other. It all felt like a dream. 

He had carried Theon to the Great Hall, but once there they had been hurried away by servants to change from the armour they had worn in the Iron Born tradition into clothing more appropriate for the King and Prince Consort of the North and the Trident. 

Robb had nearly tripped when he saw Theon again, he wore clothes of soft silk and velvet, gold and black and grey, ones that hugged his figure and complimented the Stark cloak that still hung from his shoulders. 

A possessive part of him growled in pride at the sight of Theon so obviously his, at his claim so blatantly stated before everyone. 

Theon shuddered under the heat of his gaze, as though he could feel how much Robb desired him. 

Robb took his hand and led him into the hall, through the lords and ladies that stood, waiting for them both. There would be a feast, but first a second ceremony needed to take place.

Robb’s great wooden chair, the one which had been father’s and his father’s and so on right back to Torrhen Stark and the ancient kings, stood at the head of the table, the chair which had been his mother’s now stood empty, awaiting its new owner. 

They did not sit down though, there was one final task before they could, one more which required Sansa’s aid. 

She approached with a cushion, one with a circlet held upon it, with three swords which mirrored the ones on Robb’s own crown at the front, and the impression of waves embossed on the metal. 

Robb took it from the cushion and as he lifted it, so everyone in the hall dropped to their knees. 

“May I present to you Theon Greyjoy, Prince-Consort of the North and the Trident!” Robb called out, and placed the circlet upon his husband’s brow. It was a move met with cheers across the hall, ones loud enough to encourage the wolves to howl as well. 

Robb sat down, Theon by his side, and the lords and ladies sat as well. A brief moment of quiet filled the air before the food started to be brought in, and the wine and ale started to flow. 

They ate and drank, and Robb could not have suppressed his smile, even if he had wanted to. Especially not when he heard the excited squeals of Sansa as the lemon cakes were brought out, and saw the way that Theon’s eyes lit up when shellfish was placed before him. 

By the time that a great marchpane Weirwood tree was brought out the hall was filled with drunken laughter and a general good cheer. Robb and Theon cut into it together, this grand delicacy and showcase of talent from the cooks. 

They had the first bites of course, and were able to send it to whoever they wished. To receive the marchpane was a statement of goodwill from them both, a statement of friendship and something that other lords envied. All members of their families received some, even SweetRobin and Aunt Lysa from the Vale; and then they sent it to those lords who needed buttering up, those whose goodwill would be useful indeed. It was something they had previously discussed with Sansa and Mother, which Lords they should honour in such a way.

Eventually though most of the food had been eaten, leaving only platters of cakes and bowls of fruits and nuts for people to snack on. The floor cleared and everyone waiting with a sense of anticipation for the dancing to begin. 

“Would you dance with me?” Robb held his hand out to Theon, an easy smile upon his face. 

He did not want to pressure his husband into dancing, but he knew that he had used to love it, back when they were learning together. 

“I would.” Theon took his hand, grinning back at him.

Robb led his new husband to the floor as the first notes of music began to fill the air. He placed a hand on his waist and clasped the other in his, and began to lead him around the floor, their steps not necessarily perfect but good enough all the same. They pressed slightly closer than propriety demanded, but who would call them out for it? They were King and Prince Consort, and not even Robb’s mother would begrudge them the chance to enjoy their wedding.

They would have other dances that evening, but they were also required to dance with others, both would be made to dance with Sansa, Theon would need to dance with Yara, and Robb would need to ask his mother as well, not to mention the other lords and ladies who might wish to dance. 

When the final notes faded out the other nobility entered the floor. Robb pulled Theon to him and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, taking one last moment for just the two of them before they had to do their duty.

Sansa was the next person Robb twirled around the floor, and he was pleased to see that she was happy and laughing. It had taken far too long for her to feel comfortable to do so after they had rescued her from Kings Landing and he felt blessed every time she appeared as carefree as she had before their father’s death. 

His next dance partner was not quite so enjoyable, for although he respected Yara Greyjoy he knew that she did not like him.

“Queen Yara.” Robb nodded to her.

“King Robb.” Yara nodded back, polite even if he could feel the hostility emanating from her.

The song they danced to was one which left much time for talking, a slower dance than the fast reel he had just danced with Sansa. And from the way that Yara started talking to him as they moved around the floor it was definitely planned.

“My baby brother is nearly all I have left.” Yara said almost conversationally, “If you even think of hurting him or making him unhappy then your lands will burn. Your people will be slaughtered, and you will long for the actions of the Bolton’s as I make you understand the new meaning of the word agony.”

Robb spun her around and then looked her in the eye with as much sincerity as he could, “If I hurt your brother then I will hand you the blade myself.”

Yara looked at him appraisingly, “I can see that you believe those words. Very well, you have persuaded me that this is not a bad thing. But I will be watching Theon carefully for any signs of unhappiness.”

As the final beats of the song rang out Robb took the opportunity to take the last word. “Of course, I would think very little of you if you did not do all you could to ensure your brother’s happiness.”

When they separated Robb thought he could see a new level of respect in Yara Greyjoy’s face, a new level of understanding from one older sibling to another.

His next few dances were not as memorable, spinning ladies around the floor who merely wished to dance with him so that they could say that they had danced with the King. 

He caught a Theon’s eye as the first bars of Florian and Jonquil filled the air, and knew that none would begrudge him a dance with his new husband to this famed song of two lovers. 

“Your Grace.” Robb bowed over Theon’s hand and laughed when Theon batted his eyelashes in an over dramatic way, like so many of the ladies they had danced with that evening. 

“Your Grace.” Theon bowed back, a smirk upon his face.

Robb pulled him into the dance, but let Theon lead this one, for it was a fast paced one he had always excelled at during their childhood lessons. He started to laugh as Theon twirled him like he was a maiden, and was filled with such joy and love he felt like he might burst. 

The moment was ruined when the GreatJon, who was very obviously heavily drunk, stood upon a bench.

“My lords and ladies, Your Graces,” He boomed, “It is time, I think, for the bedding!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @istaricelebelasse


End file.
